


Chapped Lips, Cold Hands, Warm Heart

by annieoakley1



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-19
Updated: 2013-10-19
Packaged: 2017-12-29 21:01:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1010060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annieoakley1/pseuds/annieoakley1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peeta and Katniss work on a school project together on Valentine’s Day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chapped Lips, Cold Hands, Warm Heart

It was cold even for February standards, and Peeta dipped his chin down into the collar of his winter coat and licked his painfully dry lips. 

Katniss Everdeen was walking next to him.  Katniss.  Everdeen.  Next to him!

He still couldn’t believe that his name had been picked alongside hers when Miss Trinkett was assigning partners for their freshmen English project.  They already spent nearly two hours together after school, picking a topic and trying to divvy up the work.  When they were chased out by the librarian, he tentatively asked if she’d like to go to his house to continue, since he lived nearby.  He wondered if she could tell that he was holding his breath as he waited for her answer.

But she said yes!  And now she was walking.  Next to him.  On the way to his house.

Damn, he should have offered to carry her books or something.  That would have been the classy thing to do.  He stopped suddenly and turned, reaching out to stop her.  His fingers grazed that little bone at her wrist, and it was the only expanse of exposed skin aside from her face.  She flinched and pulled back, and his palm caught against the rough fabric of her size-too-small mittens.  “Sorry!” he said quickly, dropping his hand to his side.  “Uh, can I take that for you?”  He motioned to her backpack and she shook her head, averting her eyes.  Peeta took the hint and easily matched her brisk stride.

“Your hands are freezing,” she said, her head still down.  “Don’t you have gloves?”

Peeta had about a million pairs, he just never remembered to wear them.  He grabbed them out of his pocket and put them on, again licking his lips in the process.  He felt the temporarily relief he now associated with running his tongue over his sore, cracked flesh, but then the harsh wind picked up and the sensitive skin burned with it.  He needed to start remembering some lip balm, too.

When they arrived at his house, he walked ahead of her as they navigated down the long, cobblestone walkway leading to the wraparound front porch.  Once inside, he offered up a smile as he took her coat, hanging it on one of the wall hooks near the door.

“Your house is really nice,” she said timidly, her eyes darting around to take in the space.

“Thanks.  I, uh, built it myself.”  But she didn’t say anything else and he ducked his head, embarrassed.  God, why was he such a dork?  No wonder she acted so weird around him.

He led her into the family room at the back of the house, and they settled in on the couch, each pulling out their notebooks and the photocopies from their library research.  It was so strange having her here in his home, sitting on his sofa, reading over his messy handwriting.  He knew her since kindergarten, and that was nearly a decade ago now, but this was probably the closest they’ve ever been.

He wondered if she even remembered him from back then.  He had been such a shy little boy, and about as thick as a pig.  At five years old, he had a belly that stretched out even the largest husky sized shirts from the boy’s department, and a stupid round face with perpetually pink cheeks.  He’d been called all the fat names imaginable, even at home, even by his own mother.  But it still stung every time someone felt the need to insult him for his size.  It still hurt exquisitely every time someone teased.

So on that first day of school, he sat quietly at the tiny table, trying to fight back tears as the other children laughed at him after he was caught surreptitiously nibbling on the sugar cookies his father had packed in his little Hulk-themed book bag.

Then, just when he was sure a sad sob was about to break free and ruin him further, he heard an angelic voice fearlessly telling everyone else to shut up and leave him alone. 

He looked up to see the girl in a threadbare red plaid dress, her dark hair plaited neatly in two long braids.  She was an intimidating little thing, and the other kids fell surprisingly silent, eventually moving on to something else and leaving him to be ignored.

From that moment on, he was a goner.

He hadn’t known how to thank her, so he shyly offered up the rest of his cookies, holding out the plastic baggie to her with a tiny smile.  She hesitated for only a moment before accepting, and he watched as she shoved the treats in her mouth, her eyes lighting up with happiness.

The taunting and bullying didn’t stop completely, of course.  But she was always there to glare warningly at the conspirators, and Peeta found the jabs hurt significantly less with the knowledge that there was someone in his corner. Especially when that someone was as wonderful as Katniss. 

She was the one he thought of when others got him down; she was his reminder that people could be decent and kind.

Over the years, Peeta grew taller and stronger, and his once chubby face thinned out to reveal a strong, chiseled jaw.  He had no choice but to keep his weight in control with the wrestling check-ins, and now he nearly had a six pack as a reward for the effort.

But he’d always still think of himself as the tubby little kid others loved to taunt. Now some of the girls who once laughed along or joined in on the cruelness flirted shamelessly with him to garner his attention, but he knew he’d only be able to forgive, never forget.  None of those others left a lasting impression the way Katniss had, anyway.

So it was a real piece of luck that his name was drawn to be her partner.  But he had to wonder if she even knew the effect she had on him.  She couldn’t.

“What are you doing?”

They both looked up to find his older brother, Rye, entering the room, a group of his friends trailing in behind him.

“Um, school stuff,” Peeta said, motioning toward the pile of work surrounding them.

“So do it somewhere else, man.  It’s Thursday.”

Peeta rolled his eyes, but began to pack it in, knowing full well that there was no arguing with his brother.  Katniss wordlessly followed suit, not saying anything until they were alone in the large kitchen.

“What’s on Thursday?” she then asked curiously.

“Oh.  Band practice.”

“They’re in a band?”

“None of them could play an instrument to save their life,” he snorted.  “It’s just an excuse to hangout and smoke pot, talking about what they’ll do when they make it big.”

She smiled at that, and wow, he really liked it when she smiled.

“Can you think of a better way to spend Valentine’s Day?” he asked, and then she laughed a little.  She  _laughed._   At something  _he_ said.  He knew right then that he’d give pretty much anything to be able to make her laugh again.

But they both fell quiet as they focused again on the work.  Some people were perfectly comfortable to sit in silence, but Peeta was not one of them.  “So, are you going to the dance tomorrow night?” he finally asked.  It was small talk, right?  Nothing wrong with that.

But her nose scrunched up unfavorably as she shook her head.  He licked at his lips again, now out of nervousness.  “Oh.  I just thought maybe you were going with Hawthorne.”

‘ _Noooooo,_ ’ he screamed internally.  ‘ _Why would you ask that?_ ’

“Gale?” she asked.  “No!  Uh, no.  I mean, we’re not like that.  No!”  He could have sworn his heart started to race a little faster as she stammered on, the relief nearly tangible.  But then he immediately felt ashamed for it.  It really wasn’t any of his business.  It’s not like he had any claim to her.

Now he was biting on his lip, worrying the loose, peeling skin between his teeth. He knew it was a disgusting habit.  Painful, too.  But he couldn’t stop.

“Are you going with Delly?” she asked, and she was so quiet he barely heard her. 

Delly?

So he asked, “Delly?” and she nodded.  Then he was stammering his own denial. “No way.  Delly…Delly’s like a sister.”

Wait, was that a flash of relief on her own face that he saw?  No.  No, it couldn’t be.  Dream on, Mellark.

“That’s how it is with Gale,” she finally said, her eyes back on her paper as her pencil moved furiously.  “Well, he’s not like a  _sister._   Or even a brother, really.” Finally she looked up, staring straight on in contemplation.  “He’s like…a cousin, or something.”

‘ _That’s good,’_  Peeta thought.  It was still illegal in most states to marry your cousin.

Just then, a loud, deafeningly high-pitched squeal echoed out from the back of the house, and they both blanched at the sound.  “Oh no,” Peeta said, recognizing the chords from his brother’s guitar.  He grabbed for all their papers and books, standing from the table.  “Let’s go to my room.  It’s only going to get worse.”

“Your room?” she asked with wide, terrified eyes.

“Yeah.”  He started for the stairs, and she followed him cautiously.  The only one who would have minded was his mother, but she was long gone.  And his dad and brother would be at the bakery late tonight, with the holiday and all.  “C’mon,” he said, leading her down the winding hallway, to the last door.  At least it would be quiet there.

He sprawled out on his bed and she took the desk chair, and they continued right where they left off.  But as Peeta wrote out the MLA citations for the bibliography (one of his least favorite things to do, ever), he couldn’t help but to steal a couple looks her way.  Seriously, what were the odds that the girl he had a crush on since kindergarten would grow up to be so absolutely gorgeous? She had such long, thick dark hair.  And big, beautiful grey eyes.  And the cutest little slopped nose.  And the perfect smattering of freckles across her cheeks.

And a really nice mouth.  With pink, full lips.  Really, really nice lips.

He looked down, running his tongue along his own mouth before sneaking another peek at his dream girl.  But she was looking at him now, too, and they both froze as one caught the other.

He wondered, for just a second, if she did know.  Maybe he wasn’t able to play it as cool as he thought, and she’d seen him staring before. 

Maybe she even remembered the cookies he always gave her on Valentine’s Day, since he stupidly had to bring up the holiday before.  Every year, all throughout grade school, his father would prepare a special batch of sugar cookies for Peeta to distribute to his class along with the valentine cards.  But Peeta had always asked if he could decorate Katniss’s himself, and his father obliged.  So he would spend a good hour carefully piping on the icing, meticulously placing each edible pearl all around the edge of the heart, and oh-so-gently writing out her name in the red frosting.

But if she did know about his crush, she never let on.  If anything, she only seemed to grow impatient with him as they got older, though mostly he was ignored. 

He remembered the one time when they were about eleven and he found Cato cornering her and her little sister outside of the convenience store in town. Cato, a senator’s son and one of the most unpleasant people he’d ever had the misfortune of knowing, was always the ring-leader of every gang.   He was often the one initiating any attacks on Peeta, as well.  But Peeta’d had a decent growth spurt that summer, and he knew he’d be able to take him again if he had to. 

So Peeta dropped his bike on the sidewalk and marched right up to him, calling out Cato’s name and using the most authoritative voice he could muster to tell him to knock it off.  When Cato only sneered in response before turning back to Katniss, Peeta put to use the good six years of anger he had pent up; he lunged without another thought. 

Cato got in one decent hit, right under the eye, but Peeta got him back just as good.  In the end, the bigger boy ran off, clutching his face and crying.  It was something Peeta would severely pay for later with his mother, but in that moment he felt invincible.

Katniss hadn’t seemed impressed, though.  When he handed her the smashed loaf of bread that Cato had torn from her grocery bag, she took it wordlessly and marched off, her tiny sister in tow.  They hadn’t come close to interacting since.

She wasn’t looking at him this time, and he repressed a sigh.   He was wrong to think she’d ever like him, too.

He ran his tongue along the seam of his mouth, stopping only when he felt the bed shift.  When he glanced up to find Katniss’s face startlingly close to his own, he licked his lips again.  Then he saw her lean in, and his eyes drooped shut as her mouth met his.

Her own lips were as plush and warm as he had imagined, and maybe if he’d been capable of any other thought, he would have wondered what she thought about his.  Surely they didn’t feel this good.

She pulled back, breaking the chaste contact first.  “You’re only making it worse, you know,” she warned. 

“Huh?”  He was in a total daze.

“Your chapped lips.”  Her eyes fell back down to his mouth, and then she was kissing him again.  He was able to gather enough of his wits this time to turn his head slightly to the side, so their noses weren’t bumping against each other.  She opened up just a little then, and he took the opportunity to catch her bottom lip between his, deepening the kiss. 

He swore then that he’d get some Carmex, or have his dad buy that twelve pack of Chapsticks at Costco; he’d even dip his head in a vat of Blistex if he had to.  He’d do just about anything to make sure she wanted to kiss him like this again. 

When she broke it off this time, she was smiling.  “Happy Valentine’s Day, Peeta.”


End file.
